The brothers Volkov
by MichaellaD
Summary: One dead Russian diplomat. Three sons, one of whom's confessed. Who did it? (CNC)
1. Jane and Lisbon meet the Volkovs

**A/N: Please see my profile for the definition of a CNC.**

**This time I picked The Listener, which is another Canadian crime show, and rather ironic because it's about a psychic police consultant. He actually _can_ read minds. I chose season 2, episode 4.**

**Anyway, being as it is Canadian, I once again had to change the setting, from Toronto to Houston. This is the only plot difference.**

**You don't need to be psychic to figure out that I do not own the Listener or the Mentalist.**

* * *

_637 Freshwater St., Houston  
Consul General Volkov's personal residence_

Abbott, closely followed by Jane and Lisbon, walked into an excessively opulent house that was full of police officers. The main uniform walked over.

"This belonged to the Russian consulate general. He's lying on the floor with his head caved in." He pointed at a Russian-looking man sitting handcuffed to a chair. His hands were covered in blood and EMTs were looking him over. "This is the guy."

Abbott nodded. "Detective, we'll be taking over from here."

"That's it? You just take my case."

Abbott looked at him, face impassive. "Yeah. That's not a problem, is it?"

"You kidding? We love coming to crime scenes and just... leaving."

Abbott was losing patience. "Do you have any idea the kind of paperwork this kind of case is going to generate?"

The police officer rolled his eyes. "Always looking out for us. Well, good luck." He went over to collect his men.

"What happened?" asked Lisbon.

"Lucky for me, this seems pretty open-and-shut. Mr. Volkov here" - Abbott pointed at the blood-spattered man - "phoned 9-1-1 and confessed to killing his father. Right, Mr. Volkov?"

The man didn't raise his gaze from the floor. "He tried to kill me. I had no choice."

Jane cocked his head to the side and looked at him for a long time, then seemed to come to a decision. He walked over to Abbott. "Was there anyone else here?"

"Not according to the reports."

"Ah."

"What was the murder weapon?" asked Lisbon.

Abbott pointed at a black statue of a woman with upraised arms.

"We'll check it for prints but I'm pretty sure we'll just find his." Abbott nodded towards the suspect.

One of the EMTs looked up. "We'll have to take him to the hospital for a proper checkup. Are you guys coming?"

"Yes. We'll meet you there."

Lisbon unhandcuffed the man, who seemed to have difficulty walking, and the EMTs helped him out the door.

Jane tapped Abbott on the shoulder. "He's lying."

"What?"

"He didn't do it. He's lying through his teeth."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

"Jane, he confessed. He's got his father's blood all over his hands."

"Either he had a partner who did the actual killing or he's covering for someone, I don't know yet. But I repeat, he lied about killing his father."

Abbott sighed. "All right. I'll call up the rest of the team."

* * *

"9-1-1; what is the nature of your emergency?"

"My name is Dmitri Volkov, and I have just killed my father." Click.

Wiley hit a button on his laptop. "That's the entire conversation."

They were all gathered in a hospital corridor.

"What do you have on the deceased?" asked Abbott.

"Theodore Volkov entered the diplomatic service in 1975. 1985-88 he was with the embassy in Washington. He transfered to Houston as the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs; and get this: three years ago he was named the Consul General."

"What about the son?"

"Dmitri Volkov. He's 27, born in Russia, raised in Houston, and he's an accounts executive for a brokerage firm. No priors."

"Any previous domestic trouble?" put in Cho.

"No, nothing in the file."

"All right." Abbott raised his eyebrows. "Fischer. Let's go talk to Mr. Volkov."

* * *

Abbott, Fischer, and Dmitri were sitting in a small waiting room at the hospital. Jane and Cho were watching through the window.

"Dmitri, why did you attack your father?"

"I told him to stay out of my life."

"And why did you want him to stay out of your life?"

The man was sullen now. "Because he was the type of father who would attack his son with a letter opener."

Abbott leaned forward. "Look, I won't insult your intelligence as long as you don't insult mine. We know there was someone else in the house besides you and your father."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

A nurse opened the door and leaned in. "There's someone at the desk saying he's Mr. Volkov's lawyer."

Abbott slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. Out in the hallway was another plainly Russian man. Abbott held out his hand. "Agent Abbott, FBI. You must be Mr. Volkov's attourney?"

"I'm also his brother. Yuri Volkov."

"I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. You can't imagine how difficult this is. For me. For all of us. Our father, he was an extraordinary man. Is Dmitri all right?"

Abbott was slightly taken aback. "Yes, he's fine, under the circumstances."

"I want to see for myself. Have you been questioning him?"

"With his consent," Abbott assured him.

"I'm sure you were most professional, but he is not fit to be interviewed, given what occured."

Abbott crossed his arms. "I disagree."

"Further, his counsel was not present for his questioning; and finally, as a Russian citizen and the son of a diplomat, he has-"

"Diplomatic immunity," Abbott finished for him. "Yes, we know, that's the first thing we looked into. I should warn you that we may contest that."

The other Mr. Volkov swept past Abbott and into the room where his brother was currently sitting.

Fischer found Abbott an hour later. "Wiley says there's a third brother. Pavel Volkov. He's severely autistic and he lives with his two brothers. Do you want us to go check it out?"

"No, we don't need to do that. I just got a call from Washington. We 'are no longer necessary.' Dmitri's going to fly back to Russia. He'll be tried there."

Fischer nodded. "Oh. Well, this was an easy case, wasn't it."

Abbott nodded. "Sure was." His eyes held a hint of unsatisfaction.

* * *

They were back at the Austin offices.

"You're saying we watch him get on a plane and fly back to Russia?" Jane was incredulous.

"The Russians want him on a plane, Washington wants him on a plane, why don't you want him on a plane? Last I heard there was a great court system in Moscow."

Jane got a stubborn look on her face.

Abbott folded his hands together. "Do you have something I don't know about?"

"There was somone else involved."

"Yes, I know you've been saying that. And this is based on..."

"Intuition."

"Oh. What judge wouldn't buy that."

"Can't we hold onto him for a few more days?"

"Jane, there are two ministers from Washington coming in this morning. They've got the entire staff on red alert."

Jane grinned widely, knowing he'd won. "And I know how much you love a challenge. I have complete faith in you."

* * *

_9923 Perfinch Av., Houston  
Yuri Volkov's residence_

Cho knocked on the door of another mansion. A beautiful Russian woman opened it.

"How can I help you?"

"Agent Cho, FBI, and this is Patrick Jane, a consultant for the FBI. Can we have a word?"

"Please, come in." She stepped back. "It's about Dmitri, isn't it," she said once they were all safely inside.

"Yes, it is, Miss..." asked Jane.

"Renyeska. Yekaterina Renyeska, but you can call me Katya."

"So what's your connection to the family? Are you a relative?" asked Cho.

"No. I take care of Pavel. Pavel suffers from a severe form of autism."

Jane began looking at all the pictures on the bookshelf.

"Is this you?" He indicated a picture of a stunning woman in her twenties.

"Yes."

"You're very photogenic. Let me guess: you were a model."

"Why, yes." She looked at him in surprise. "Did you run a background check?"

He grinned. "It's in the way you hold yourself. Perfect posture."

He pointed to one of a mother and father and two teenaged boys.

"These are Dmitri and Yuri, right?"

"Yes, with their father and their mother. She died soon after the picture."

"What about Pavel?"

"He was born to another woman, American woman. She left. An autistic boy was too much for her, so..." She shrugged, managing to convey her disdain for the spoiled women of this country. "He goes to a special school, and I look after him the rest of the time."

"Can I speak with him?" asked Jane.

"What about?"

"His brother."

She looked at him strangely. "Of course, but I'm sure you won't learn anything from him." She pointed at a door.

"Thanks." Jane headed off.

"So, Miss Re... Ray... Ren..." Cho tripped over his tongue.

"Renyeska, Agent." Katya hid a smile.

"Now you're a full-time nanny?"

"Well, it's a full-time job to look after Pavel."

"Why doesn't he live with his father?"

"He was travelling so much, he couldn't take a good care of him. That's why he lives with us. Fyodore really loved Pavel," she said defensively. "Whenever he could they would go and play with his trains. They built that set together. Sometimes they would watch a movie together. He treated Pavel well."

Cho put on his serious look. "Where were you last night?"

"With Pavel."

"Here?"

"Yes."

Cho changed tacks. "Have there been any arguments between Dmitri and his father?"

"No, none! That is what's so odd."

"Did you notice anything unusual at all in the Volkov family over the last couple days?"

Katya thought carefully. "No, nothing I noticed."

* * *

There was an older teenage boy bent over an elaborate train set when Jane poked his head in the room.

"Hey Pavel, hi! I'm Jane." He waved at the boy, who didn't seem to notice there was someone else in the room.

Jane cocked his head to the side. "This is a really amazing train set. Did you build this?" Still no recognition. "Wow, look at all your people. That's very cool."

Jane walked over to where Pavel was standing. The boy instantly moved away a few feet, still not looking at him. Jane bent over the set. He picked up a model man, about three inches tall. "Who's this here?"

"Uhn. Uhn. Uhn." Pavel began moaning softly. Jane put the man back down. Pavel sat down and began rocking back and forth, still moaning.

"It's okay. Pavel, it's okay." Jane bent down beside him. Pavel kept rocking. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Hey. Hey. Pavel. It's okay." Getting flustered, Jane reached out and put his hand on Pavel's knee. Pavel began to scream.

In the living room, Katya jumped. "Pavel!?"

She ran into the train room, Cho right behind her. "Oh my God, what did you do to him?" She obviously cared very much about Pavel, Jane noticed. She was more worried than upset.

He looked up. Only someone who knew him well would have seem that he was terribly upset about having somehow hurt Pavel. "I just- I touched him on the knee."

"He cannot stand to be touched!" Katya barked.

"I'm sorry." Jane retreated to the doorway.

"I think you need to leave now."

Jane nodded contritely.

Katya began speaking rapidly in Russian. She took a figure from the train set and moved it to one edge of the table. Without touching Pavel, she pointed at the displaced figure and drew his attention to it. She was clearly telling him that something was out of place. Pavel, who had stopped screaming but was still rocking and moaning, slowly moved over to the set again and put the piece back. His eyes began following the train's ceaseless circular journey once again.

Jane looked down at the floor and disappeared from the doorway.

* * *

Wiley popped into Abbott's office. "So I researched everyone connected with the case."

"Any good news?"

"Um, well, all I found is that Fyodore and Dmitri were like any father and son. A few fights here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary. Same with Yuri. Then Pavel's virtually catatonic, so that eliminates him."

"What about Katya?"

"Here's the thing. There's nothing to indicate she even exists."

"An illegal immgrant. Hmm. Surprise, surprise."

"Oh, and it turns out the Consul General is an entrepeneur. One of his companies is a talent agency specialising in Russian models."

"Oh? Thank you Wiley." Abbott picked up his phone. He dialled a number and leaned back in his chair, smiling to himself. "Cho. Katya was a model, you said? Good. How would you like to go see some Russian models?"

* * *

At the modelling agency it was controlled bedlam. About twenty thin Russian women were modelling underwear while an army-sized techincal crew swarmed around, applying makeup, adjusting outfits, spraying hair, photographing, changing backgrounds, and running around with clipboards.

Cho and Fischer approached the man who was talking the loudest. "Mr. Sergei Petoukhov?

"Yes?" The man turned around, irritated. "I am very busy here. It is not obvious?"

Cho pulled out his badge. "Agent Cho, FBI. This is Agent Fischer. We have a few questions about Fyodore Volkov."

Sergei nodded, suddenly solemn. "Give me a moment. He turned away and began issuing commands to his background people. As the two agents watched, a Manhattan scene morphed into a jungle backdrop, complete with plush snarling tiger.

"Yes. Yes! Now continue. You are doing perfectly! I will be back." He nodded at the agents and guided them over to a somewhat quieter spot. "You are asking about..."

"Fyodore Volkov."

"Yes. Terrible news. He was one of my investors."

"He didn't own it outright?" asked Fischer.

"No, it was a partnership. He supplied the capital, I found the talent."

"You only got Russian women?" Cho pointed out.

Sergei made an expansive gesture. "There is an unlimited pool of beautiful women there." He looked over his shoulder and frowned. "Tatiana, Tatiana! Keep smiling!"

"These women, do they all have visas and work permits?" Fischer dragged him back to reality.

He shrugged. "I can only assume so." He peered closely at Fischer. "You have lovely cheekbones."

She raised her eyebrows. "I also have a lovely badge. How involved was Mr. Volkov with the talent?"

"Well, it's no secret Fyodore had an eye for the ladies. In fact, he took one of them away from me and gave her a job."

"What was this woman's name?"

"Katya Renyeska."

* * *

Jane knocked on the door of the Volkov brother's house. Katya opened the door again.

"Hi, I was just wondering how Pavel was doing."

"Fine. Under the circumstances." She was frowning very faintly.

"Good, good. I feel bad about yesterday."

"It's okay."

"I brought him a little something." Jane held up a model man, about three inches tall. "I hope that's okay. Wanted to make it up to him."

Her whole demeanour softened. She gave him the first real smile he'd seen from her. "Come in, you can give it to him yourself."

"Thanks."

In the train room, Jane sat down beside Pavel. "Hey Pavel. Remember me? I'm Jane. How's it going?" The two of them watched the train for a bit.

"I brought you a present." Jane held out his empty hand, turned it over, and produced the model man. His trick sort of fell flat because Pavel didn't look at Jane's hand once.

"See, this is me. He's wearing a suit like I do. I'm going to put me right here." He plunked the man in the open square in front of the train station.

Pavel's eyes continued following the train, but then he reached over and moved the man off to the side, onto the sidewalk. Jane grinned.

"So which one's you? You know, I'll bet you're the station manger. Position of authority and all that. It fits you."

* * *

**A/N: Well, there you have it. All the suspects have now been introduced. Any wild surmises forthcoming as to who did it?**


	2. Jane and Lisbon uncover the cover-up

"Sir, I found something interesting."

Abbott looked up. "What?"

Wiley hurried over to his desk. "I was trying to establish a timeline for Dmitri, and I was going through his phone records. There was a call put through from Fyodore's line at 8:30pm."

Abbott looked at Wiley's laptop for a moment. "Okay, assume that Jane was right and that there was someone else there. Do up a timeline for everyone else connected with the case. Let me know the instant you have something."

"Yes sir. And forensics turned up something else."

Abbott picked up the file Wiley handed him. He flipped through it then put it down. He smiled slowly. "Well, what do you know. Jane was right again." He looked around. "Speaking of whom, where is he?"

Wiley looked surprised. "He said you sent him to go do something."

Abbott swore. He walked out into the bullpen. "Lisbon, do you have any idea where Jane is?"

"No." She managed to look surprised and annoyed at the same time.

"Should I send out a search party or wait for him to come back on his own?" asked Abbott drily.

She looked sheepish. "You could send out a search party, but I doubt you'd find him."

Abbott sighed. "That's what I thought. Come on. Let's go talk to our suspect again."

* * *

"We went through you phone records and found that a call was placed to your phone from your father's house right around the time he died. Can you explain this?"

Dmitri looked slightly surprised but recovered quickly. "He called me. That's why I went over there."

"Did you go over there intending to kill him?"

"Don't answer that," snapped Yuri, leaning up against the wall.

"Dmitri, I know what it's like to have a volatile relationship with a father." Lisbon said this without a trace of unease. "I can tell that you really loved him. What would he want you to do right now?"

Dmitri stared at them coldly. "He would want me to accept responsibilty for what I have done. And I have."

Abbott leaned forward. "Forensics found smudge marks underneath your fingerprints on the murder weapon. You wiped it down before you handled it. Why would you do that? Unless you were trying to-"

Yuri moved slightly from his position on the wall. "The cleaning lady must have wiped it down," Dmitri offered quickly.

Abbott shook his head. "See, I just find this very odd. Here I am offering you an out and you're not taking it."

Yuri bent his head down towards his brother. "Dmitri, perhaps..."

Dmitri looked over at him, half pleadingly, half defiantly, and began to say something in rapid Russian.

"English, please," ordered Abbott pleasantly. Both brothers stared silently at him. Finally Yuri spoke.

"My client stands by his previous statement. And I guess this interview is over."

Dmitri stood up to go but Abbott's voice recalled him to his seat.

"Not yet. Tell me about Miranov Talent."

Dmitri crossed his arms. "Never heard of it."

"Really? Your father was an investor in it."

"Our father was an investor in many things."

Lisbon broke in. "Well, this one was special. It's where he met Katya. And isn't it true that his interest in her was beyond simply being Pavel's nanny?"

Dmitri seemed to choke. "Katya could not have done this! I said that I killed him. Why would I lie about that?"

Abbott sat back in his chair. "You tell me."

* * *

Cho hailed Abbott as he stepped out of interrogation. "Wiley found something. Pavel's teacher said that yesterday when Katya picked him up from class, she was taking him to visit his father."

"Was that usual?"

"Yes."

Abbott nodded. "Did he turn up anything else?"

"Um, Sergei was at a fashion show of some sort. And Yuri has no alibi from about 4 o'clock on."

"All right. Take Fischer, go talk to Katya again. See if she really did go to Fyodore's yesterday and if she had anything to do with the murder. And tell Wiley to keep looking into Yuri, just in case."

* * *

"One of your people is knocked over, Pavel." Jane pointed at a man lying on his side near a park bench. Eyeing Pavel carefully, he reached out and righted the figure. After a few moments Pavel knocked the man over again. Jane stared at the little toy, deep in thought.

"I think that's enough for today," said Katya softly, standing in the doorway. Jane stood up and turned around, a brilliant smile on his face. Katya stepped a little closer, smiling in return.

Jane extricated himself from the area of his chair. "Hey Pavel." The boy didn't turn his head, but Jane was used to this by now. "Thanks for letting me play with you today. I'll see you soon!" He gave a little wave. "Bye."

Katya turned to Jane as they walked out. "His train set means everything to him. Fyodore loved watching him play. He built it for him."

"So his father was around a lot."

"Not a lot, but he would check with me on the phone almost every day."

"Were you and Fyodore lovers?" Jane segued into his latest idea with all the subtlety of a rampaging hippo. "You're a beautiful woman..."

She interrupted him. "He was my employer," she stated flatly.

"Bah. What does that mean?"

"There were feelings between us, but a different kind," she said firmly.

"So, you weren't sleeping with Fyodore," mused Jane. "Who, then? Yuri? Dmitri?" Katya looked at him steadily. Jane started to grin. "Aha! Dmitri."

Katya opened her mouth but whatever she was about to say was lost forever, because at that precise moment the doorbell rang. "Excuse me," she said, going to answer it. She reappeared with Cho and Fischer.

Jane greeted them with a cheery wave. "I was wondering when you'd get here."

Cho, always unflappable, nodded at him. Fischer glared.

"I'll just get you up to speed. Turns out Dmitri and Katya were lovers."

Fischer dropped all her interest in Jane now that she had an investigative clue to focus on. "Now, Katya, you're in a bit of a spot here. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes." She was calmly defiant.

"We know that Fyodore was in love with you. Was he upset about your relationship with Dmitri? Did you two argue about that?"

"No! Dmitri was the one I fell in love with."

"So you had had a relationship with Fyodore."

"That's why he gave me the job. But when we met me and Dmitri just fell in love. And even when Fyodore found out me and him never fought. Never."

"Didn't you worry that you'd lose your job?"

"No. Fyodore is a good man. Besides, he knew I'm good for Pavel."

Fischer changed tactics. "There's a couple things we'd like to go over with you again. Where were you the night of the murder?"

"I was at home with Pavel."

"No you weren't," she said sharply. "We talked to Pavel's teacher. He said you picked him up from class, and you were taking him to visit his father. So I'll ask you again. Were you at Fyodore's house?"

Katya winced and closed her eyes briefly. "All right. We were there. I dropped him off at six, picked him up at nine, same as every week."

"And when you came to pick him up, did you actually see Fyodore?"

"Yes, of course. He seemed a little troubled, but other than that, he was fine."

"When was that at? Nine?" asked Cho.

"Yes."

"The coroner says he died no later than 8:30," said Fischer.

Katya paused for just a moment. "Well, the coroner is obviously wrong."

Fischer leaned forward. "We checked with Immigration. We know you're here illegally, and we know you're lying. You have a chance to help yourself out if you just tell us the truth."

"Listen. I told you everything I know!"

Jane shook his head. "Not very convincing, my dear, I'm afraid."

* * *

Fischer practically frog-marched Jane into Abbott's office when they got back.

"So you found him!"

"He was talking to Katya, sir," she said disgustedly.

"I knew you'd send someone there eventually," put in Jane.

Abbott tried to stare him down. "Jane, you really have to tell me before you take off. You're putting yourself in danger."

"Nah, I'm fine. You guys always find me in time." Abbott just looked at him. "Fine, Dennis. I promise to try to remember to call next time."

Abbott sighed. "That's the best I'm gonna get, huh?"

"Yup," agreed Jane unrepentantly. "Are the coroner's reports in yet?"

Abbott blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Uh, no."

Jane turned to Fischer. "Thought so. You really are a fantastic liar. You almost had me back there."

Fischer tried not to look proud of herself.

"Gotta go now, I have to talk to Wiley. See you later!" Jane waved and breezed out the door.

Fischer followed him out, wondering for the umpteenth time just how he got away with doing the stuff he did.

* * *

"Wiley, I need your help. What do you know about autism?"

"Uh, just the usual, I guess."

Jane grinned. "What's the usual?"

"Autism is a social disorder. People with autism have low social skills. Usually they're basically geniuses in some way, though. Like, you can name any day in history and they'll tell you what day of the week it was. Or, they're like a human calculator." Jane was listening intently. "They're hypersensitive, so they can't stand loud noises or bright light or textured food-"

"Or being touched."

"Right. Obviously you can see that they would have a hard time coping with the world around them. To manage they construct a world for themselves where they feel safe. For example, the kid who could name any date in history would need to have every aspect of his life carefully scheduled. There's different degrees of autism, of course. Asperger's, for example, is a high-functioning kind of autism. But the principles apply just the same. They need their world to be in a specific order, and if that order changes, they can't take it."

Jane nodded. "Thanks. That's exactly what I needed to know."

* * *

Cho had just finished summarizing Jane's discovery.

Abbott looked like the light had suddenly broken in on him. "Katya and Dmitri were lovers. Well, that certainly explains a lot."

"He has every reason to protect her: he has diplomatic immunity, and she doesn't." Fischer, having come up with a reasonable and plausible theory, was looking very smug.

"So we're looking at a love triangle."

"Which always ends well," she finished ironically.

"Okay. Fyodore finds out about Dmitri, argues with Katya; she hits him, panics, calls Dmitri for help."

"She says Fyodore knew about her and Dmitri, and she denies that they fought about that," pointed out Jane, walking in at that moment. He flopped down on his couch.

"And we can always trust the word of a possible murderer," Fischer derided him.

"We can this one," said Jane, looking up at the ceiling. Lisbon tried to hide a grin.

"_Anyway_," said Fischer pointedly, "Dmitri arrives, sees what's happened, and acts fast. Wipes down the murder weapon, calls the police."

"Great theory," approved Abbott. "Too bad we don't have a sliver of evidence."

Jane, sat up. "No evidence, because it's not the right theory. She's covering for someone."

"Someone _else_ in the house?" Abbott was incredulous. "Why can't anything ever be simple with you?"

"I ask myself that every day," muttered Lisbon, a smile playing nonetheless on her lips. Jane's eyes flickered over to her in quiet amusement.

"Do you have an idea who this mysterious _fourth_ person in the house was that she's covering for?" asked Abbott.

The smile dropped off Jane's face. "Unfortunately, yes. But this is one time when I'm really hoping I'm wrong."

* * *

Jane and Lisbon were sitting across from Katya in interrogation three.

Lisbon was getting frustrated. "You keep saying Fyodore was a good man. If you cared about Fyodore at all, why don't you just help us get to the bottom of this?"

"You already know what happened."

Jane folded his hands on the table in front of him. "You say you love Dmitri but I don't see it. I think you were just using him."

"No. We love each other. We do," she insisted.

Jane shook his head. "Then why aren't you tossing out wild theories to prove his innocence? We know he didn't do it. You should be leaping for joy right now. Instead you're still trying to tell us that he did it. Why?" His voice hardened. "You realize he could go to jail for the rest of his life. Is that worth it?"

"What happened on the night of the murder?" Lisbon asked again. Katya didn't say anything.

Jane tilted his head to the side. "He was already dead when you found him, wasn't he?"

She closed her eyes tightly. "He was lying there, blood everywhere." The words seemed to be forced out of her.

"Then what happened?" Lisbon continued without waiting for an answer. "That call Dmitri received from Fyodore's line that night. That was you calling him, wasn't it?" Katya stared down at her hands. Lisbon raised her voice slightly. "Wasn't it?" Katya nodded slightly.

"So you called him and he came over and helped you clean up. How did he get that cut on his arm?" asked Jane.

"He made me do it to him so it'd look like they fought," she whispered.

"Who actually killed Fyodore? We know it wasn't Dmitri and it wasn't you." Jane was badgering her. "It's no good hiding anymore. I already know the answer. I just need to hear you say it. _Who killed him_?" Katya choked out a sob, trying desperately to hold it together. Jane's voice softened. "Katya, it was Pavel, wasn't it?"

The words just poured out of her. "I walked in and he was standing beside Fyodore, holding the statue. It was covered in blood. But he loved Fyodore." Katya balled her hands into fists and crushed them into her eye sockets. "He didn't know what he was doing! I'm sure of it." She broke down completely, keening softly like a little child.

Jane just sat there, looking at her sadly.

* * *

**A/N: Just to be clear, there is one more chapter coming.**


	3. Jane and Lisbon catch the killer

Yuri was sitting across from Jane and Abbott.

The FBI boss leaned over his desk. "Given the circumstances, we, like you, want what's best for Pavel. Now, you can claim diplomatic immunity for him or he can face trial here. They won't pursue jail time."

"So, uh, he'd be institutionalized."

"Yeah. But we have some great institutions here in the States."

"Well, I think that would be preferable. Dmitri and I would be able to visit him. How is Pavel doing?" he asked almost as an afterthought.

Jane spoke up. "He's doing okay."

Yuri nodded. "Good, good." He stood up. "Well, thank you for your help."

Abbott inclined his head. "Anytime."

* * *

Pavel was sitting in interrogation, rocking back and forth. Abbott and Jane were watching through the two-way glass.

"I want to talk to Pavel. I want to know what he saw that night."

"Jane, he can't communicate." Abbott was sympathetic, but trying to make him see reason.

"Just because he can't talk doesn't mean he can't tell me what he saw."

Abbott raised her eyebrows. "Fine. Impress me."

Jane smiled. He picked up a wooden box and walked into the room. He sat down and gave Pavel a few moments to get used to him.

"Hey Pavel. Remember me? I'm your friend, Jane. I know things must be pretty scary for you right now, so I brought along a taste of home."

Jane set the box on the table and opened it. He took out of it two trees from Pavel's train set and the park bench. Pavel reached over and adjusted their respective positions. Jane watched carefully. Gradually Pavel's rocking slowed.

Jane took out a miniature TV which he arranged before the bench, then sat the stationmaster down on the bench. Finally he placed the man that he had noticed lying on the ground before, beside Pavel's figure. "So you were watching TV with your father two days ago. You remember that?"

Jane reached out and picked up 'Pavel'. He arranged the movable figure so that his one arm was raised, then set it down beside 'Fyodore'. After a few moments Pavel took his figure and sat him back down. Jane nodded. "Okay."

He reached into the box and pulled out a purposely nondescript figure which already had its arm raised. He placed this one behind the bench. Pavel reached out and knocked his 'father' to the ground. Then he started rocking again violently and moaning.

"Okay, okay!" Jane whisked the figure away and produced the one that stood for him. "It's okay, Pavel. See, this is me." He put 'himself' in front of the bench. "See, I'm right here. I won't let anyone hurt you."

He stayed until Pavel subsided slightly. When he got up, he left the little men there on the table.

"See?" he told Abbott, once outside.

Abbott groaned. "I don't deny you've done a lot, but I believe in proof and what I've got right now is an eyewitness who can't communicate."

"We'll find evidence somewhere!"

Fischer poked her head around the corner. "Sir, Wiley says he found something you should see."

Jane and Abbott looked at each other.

"Sometimes I think you dabble in witchcraft," said Abbott suspiciously.

* * *

"Get this: I cross-referenced our good friend Yuri with our case, and I got a hit. Two years ago Yuri represented one Sergei Petoukhov in a case of living off the avails of prostitution."

"Small world," agreed Abbott.

"I don't believe in coincidence," pointed out Jane.

"Sergei cut him in on his scheme to bring girls into the country. They were clever, they disguised it as investements." Wiley's tone clearly said 'but not as clever as me!' "Then I was going through his bank records and guess what I found?"

"What?" asked Abbott patiently.

"Nothing. He's flat broke and has been for a while. So I took a closer look at Fyodore's financials and found out that he was dipping into his father's money. There's withdrawals from his father's account that match what he paid Sergei."

Fischer's eyes gleamed. "Fyodore found out, they argued, one thing led to another..."

Jane grinned. "Bingo."

* * *

Yuri picked up his phone, which had been ringing shrilly.

"Mr. Volkov?"

"Yes?"

"This is Agent Cho. I thought you'd like to know, there's been a new development in the case."

Yuri set down his briefcase. "Yes? What is it?"

"When forensics examined the statue for trace evidence, two different fibres were found from two different cloths. Someone wiped it down before Dmitri."

"What are you implying?"

"Whoever killed Fyodore tried to frame Pavel. Don't worry - our entire team is on it. We will find him."

Yuri stared straight ahead. "This is most unexpected, but it gives me hope. Thank you, Agent."

* * *

Yuri was tearing apart one of the garbage bags in the dumpster by his office. Unseen by him, Jane and Lisbon stood in the shadows nearby.

"It seems a shame to have him work so hard," whispered Lisbon.

"And he'll have to throw out that expensive suit too," Jane returned.

Yuri started on another bag. He stopped suddenly, then picked something up. Before he could put it in his pocket, the two agents of the law stepped forward.

"Hello Mr. Volkov. What are you doing there?"

Yuri turned around slowly.

"Whatcha find?" asked Jane cheerfully. "That wouldn't happen to be that cloth we're looking for, now would it?"

Yuri looked trapped. He _was_ trapped.

"You know," began Jane conversationally, "I really thought it was Pavel. You worked that perfectly. There was just one thing. When you heard that Dmitri had confessed, almost the first thing you did was ask if you could see him. So why didn't you ask if you could see Pavel when _he_ was charged? That got me thinking, and I realized the only reason was because you were afraid of Pavel's reaction when he saw you; because he'd seen you kill your father."

Lisbon produced her handcuffs. "Please climb out of the dumpster."

Yuri straightened himself up. He cut a ridiculous figure, standing proud in an ocean of garbage. "Look. If there are inquiries, I will face them in my country."

Lisbon nodded. "That's your decision, of course. But I think you might be a lot better off in a nice safe American prison."

Yuri looked at her for a long moment, then, defeated, began climbing out. "I didn't mean to hurt him. It was an accident. I didn't do anything criminal," he finished plaintively.

Jane looked at him in disgust. "You killed your father and tried to frame your autistic brother."

Lisbon cuffed him, none too gently. "Come on."

* * *

Jane knocked on the door of Pavel's home. Katya answered. "Hello! Come in."

Pavel was in the train room, but there was a difference: Dmitri was sitting on the couch. Jane grinned.

"How is your citizenship application coming?" he asked Katya.

"So far so good."

"Good." He hefted the wooden box he was carrying. "Just got a little gift for Pavel."

Katya smiled softly. "By all means."

Jane stepped into the now-familiar room. "Hey Pavel. I brought you something." He sat down beside the boy and set the box on the edge of the train set. He opened it up and took out the bench first.

"You remember this?" Jane carefully placed the bench in its appointed spot. He slowly pulled out the two figures which represented Pavel and his father and sat them on the bench. "We caught the man who killed your father. You don't have to be afraid anymore. Just remember your father like this."

Pavel stared at the little tableau. Jane waited with bated breath, but Pavel let 'his father' be; he didn't knock the little man over again. "Oh, and do you want this one?" Jane offered Pavel the man in the suit - himself. Pavel didn't take it, and Jane's face fell slightly. He placed it on the edge of the table. Pavel reached out and picked it up, placing it beside a bush. He went back to watching the train.

Jane did the same, watching the endless circle with a large smile on his face. After a few minutes he saw in his peripheral vision that Pavel was looking at him. He didn't dare move. The corners of Pavel's mouth twitched upwards just slightly. A barely perceptible change, probably the world's smallest smile, but it stayed there a few moments more.

Jane counted it as his most impressive victory.

* * *

**A/N: You can find the original episode at youtube com/watch?v=Ck_8OCrV1P0**


End file.
